Page 45 of Beach Reads
This is not the noble affair I wanted it to be. I wanted my wife to feel safe; I wanted to swoop around the maternity ward like a superhero. Whipping the other doctors into line and fetching her an endless supply of ice chips. Making sure everything is perfect for her.
“Sorry,” I mutter into her hair. “I’m making this harder, aren’t I?”
“Never.” Poppy tangles our fingers together, hands still resting on her bump. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I’malwaysglad you’re here. Everything’s better with you.”
Ah, fuck.
Same. I feel exactly the same way. Before Poppy, all the colors in my life were muted; I barely registered tastes and smells. And now, with her at my side, everything is so vibrant and raw, and life is so beautiful that some days I almost can’t stand it.
I swallow, shifting against the thin mattress, and steal a glance at the closed door. Out in the corridor, the constant sounds of the hospital are muted: ringing phones, idle chatter, the squeak of dinner cart wheels.
“You know what’s supposed to help this process along?” I trail our joined hands over the hard curve of her belly. Her hospital gown is thin and soft, bunching beneath our wrists as our hands dip between her legs—
“Looks good,” the doctor clips out, marching through the door in his blue scrubs. He’s too busy frowning at another set of test results to see us snatch our hands back, both our faces guilty, but Poppy’s shoulders are shaking so much from silent laughter, I need to get off the bed. I stare out of the window, forcing away the constant arousal I feel near Poppy, and watch the city lights glitter instead.
“It’ll be a few hours yet,” the doctor’s saying. No shit. That’s crystal clear from the charts.
But I’m not going to be an ass about this. I’m not going to let my nerves take over, because my wife deserves better.
I shoot Poppy a reassuring smile, and she beams back, melting against the headboard.
“We’ll find ways to entertain ourselves,” she promises the doctor.
Ha.
I stare out of the window again, heart pounding.
When he leaves, this time I follow to the door. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for Poppy’s frantic nod before I spin the lock.
We’ll open it again soon, once I’ve turned her into a panting, pleading mess on this hospital bed. Once I’ve made her cheeks burn and her eyes spark with mischief.
“You sure about that, worrywart?” Poppy’s voice is thick with amusement.
I smirk and turn to face her. “Oh, yeah. Trust me—I’m a doctor.”
